


From The Latin: Permanent

by sasha_b



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Comment Fic, Gen, Implied Slash, M/M, Pre-Series, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3245159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bass gets a tattoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From The Latin: Permanent

**Author's Note:**

> For the comment fic prompt: _Bass/Miles, firsts._

"I am not doing that."

"Miles, c'mon. Look at it!" Bass pointed at his bicep; the dragon curled around his arm, and when Bass flexed, it looked as though it were flying. At least to Bass.

To Miles it looked like every fan boy's wet dream and hell no, he wasn't tattooing any part of his body, thanks very much. Bass was doing this to impress some girl or to make his parents angry, and Miles didn't need or want to do either of those things. 

Ben and Rachel already weren't having much to do with him since he signed up for the marines.

"It's amazing. Why in the world wouldn't you want to do - " a redhead passed the booth Bass was just exiting, and Bass followed her butt as she swayed away from him with his eyes. "Girls like tattoos."

"Girls like men that treat them right," Miles bit off, and snatched at Bass' arm, right below where the fresh ink screamed in all its colored glory. "Girls here are all going to like tattoos, you idiot." He pointed at the fluttering sign that hung from the ceiling of the large hotel.

_Annual Tattoo Convention_

"Shut up, you fucking buzzkill." Bass snatched his arm back. "I like it." He turned his back on Miles and strode toward the door, his eyes roving around the place, the inked and pierced attendees forcing him to blink more than once. This had been his idea, and he'd been drunk when they'd bought the tickets and entered the grand ballroom of the Hilton. They were due to start basic in two weeks, and Bass wanted to do something, wanted to do everything he could do before they did _that_. 

He stopped when Miles reached his elbow. "I'm going home. I'll see you later when you've had your fill of weird." The other man kept walking, his military jacket swinging back and forth with the violence of his exit. Bass snorted; what the hell was eating him? Oh - perhaps it started with an "R" and ended with a "royal bitch-achel." 

"Miles, Miles, Miles," he murmured to himself. He sighed, his chest tightening, his arm tingling where the dragon rode. "Miles," he said again, softly, biting his lip, wondering and worrying about his friend and his mood. _Miles._

Bass made to follow the other man home but stopped when he passed a booth that purported to specialize in tribal and solid black geometric shapes. A smile slowly took over his face, and he swiveled and made a bee line for the artist that had just looked up at him and smiled a greeting.

_It's our names. Both of them._

He'd show Miles this one he had just realized he wanted permanently inked on him, and then the other man would change his mind about tattoos. This would really show they were brothers.

This would show that Miles was his and he was Miles'. As always.

An M and a circle wouldn't take long to get at all.


End file.
